Of Friends and Lovers
by thinkFemale
Summary: [CHAPTER 4 REPOSTED] The line between love and country has always been established by royals. Kings and Queens are not offered the luxury of love, that the Dauphin know so well. The need to put his country first has always cost Francis something gold can not buy. But will he let his country tore his heart apart?
1. Chapter1

**Disclaimer: Definitely do NOT own Reign. I also do NOT know the history behind reign. This is a fan fiction. I absolutely LOVE Reign's Mary and I ship Frary. But this will be a Francis/OC story at the moment. This is through my OC's POV so Mary's characterization is not developed yet. Thanks for reading!**

The palace of Valois was in high preparation for the young Queen Mary of Scots' arrival. The royal family, although busy with their eldest daughter's wedding, squeezed additional preparation for the young Queen. The most absurd thing is that everything is merely a formality, a means to show face to their Scottish alliance.

The King, himself, is busy getting measured by tailors for his daughter's wedding while the Queen angrily laments Mary's arrival. Even the Dauphin, Francis, is unseen.

"Sebastian!" I called to one of my dearest friend here at the court.

Sebastian de Poitiers was patiently waiting amidst the grand staircase leading to the doors of the castle. Knowing he isn't exactly welcome by most noblemen that are present today, he chose to watch from the distance.

He looked up from his thoughts and gave me a warm smile, "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to welcome the Queen of Scots like the rest of the ladies?"

"She isn't like the rest of the ladies, Bash." Francis' voice erupted from thin air. As usual, Francis is late and unprepared. I rushed to fix his clothing as best as we both could, "Besides, I can't meet the new queen all by myself."

I looked at him surprisingly, "What are you saying, Francis?"

He offered his arm and nudged his head for his half-brother to follow, "If she is to be my wife, she must make herself acquainted with you."

The sound of the horns rang and we hurried to get ourselves situated. Outside the palace, a throne of lords and ladies made themselves visible with the biggest pearls and the curliest of hairs to welcome the foreign queen. The royal family, along Diane de Poitiers, Bash's mother and the King's mistress were all standing proudly in the middle. Bash took his place besides his mother, while Francis continued to drag me along. As usual, stares and hushed whispers followed us. But this time, it wasn't just the French court I have to deal with.

Francis, Bash and I have been friends for a decade. We've endured the silliest and the toughest of times. Even through Bash's rough adulthood, dealing with his statue of a bastard, we've gone through it. Even with Francis' throne of women, we've tackled it. Even before, being teased as if we're more than friends, I've not thought more. But the French court is used to our antics by now, our love for each other whether it is merely platonic or more; they're used to it by now.

But not his future queen.

I can see the surprise and the pain cast on Mary – no, Queen Mary's face. Even her ladies are whispering hurriedly. They look at me as a threat.

I looked behind me, for Bash, for support and he gave me a small smile. He is the only one who understands. Queen Catherine de Medici looked smug nonetheless and I wonder why.

We've reached the Scots and I immediately retracted my hand from Francis' and curtsied low for the Queen. She nodded and turned her attention to Francis immediately.

"Welcome to France, Queen Mary." Francis greeted with a smile.

She returned the favor, "Please call me Mary."

He nodded and I've felt burning fire sensation in my belly. My corset felt too tight, the air felt too humid. I felt Francis' hand on my back, "You've brought your ladies to meet me, I thought I should do the same. May I introduce my dearest friend and most trusted companion, Lady Felicity LeBlanc of Devon."

Queen Mary smiled formally and turned wryly to me. "I hope to be the same way to you, Lady Felicity."

I had no ill conception with the Queen, nor do I wish to give her any concern. But I am a woman with good instinct and the fake smiles and insincerity tone simply do not sit well with me. I simply replied, "Friendship takes time to build, Your Majesty. For now, I am but a Lady in French court."

"A friend, then." She concluded.

"A friend of France." I argued.

Francis cleared his throat, "Fee is very involved in matters of the state, Your Majesty."

Mary looked displeased, looking at both of us, "So Lady Felicity, you understand that the alliance between France and Scotland is solidified and strong."

What meant as a simple statement clearly was a full blown jealousy outrage from the Queen, herself. I smiled as Francis led us to meet the rest of the court, inside. "Yes, Majesty, _after_ your marriage with the Dauphin then we can state that more…distinctly."

Her ladies were mum behind her, letting their Queen take a foothold in foreign soil. "Do we not have your blessing, Lady Felicity?"

I looked at Francis, my lips pursed in annoyance, "Queen Mary, my blessing in royal weddings is not necessary. The King and Queen decides what is right for the future King of France."

"But as Francis' advisor…"

"I am _not_ his advisor, Your Majesty. I am merely a friend." I restated.

Francis turned to Mary, "When the King deems it fit for us to wed, we will, Your Majesty."

Mary nodded, content with Francis' words. As we near the entrance of the grand hall, my head started to get heavy. Before the knights opened the doors, I turned to them and curtsied, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Queen Mary. But I'm afraid I'm feeling a bit under the weather."

The Queen smiled and nodded. Francis took my hand, bringing his to my forehead, "Are you ill, Fee?"

"Not to worry, Francis. I'll be better by tomorrow." I answered, slowly taking his hands off of me as respect for his jealous looking future Queen.

He looked unconvinced, "I'll come by to check you before the sun falls."

Before today, I would've felt nothing but excitement. Today, however, with Queen Mary's arrival, all I feel is dread.

I smiled weakly, "I'll ask a servant to bring me some food. I'll be fine. Tomorrow you ride with Bash before the sun rise, rest well tonight."

I turned away and stalked for my bedchambers. Truly, I did not want to be there. I want some air, some freedom from this choking feelings rumbling in my chest. I do not know what it is, but the Queen of Scots' presence does not make me happy or comfortable. I started to run with no destination in mind. I trust my feet to whisk me away.

I ended up in the weapons chamber. Before my parents passed away, my father had tediously taught me about weaponry. I've been taught how to fight because my mother was sickly and I had no brothers. I was the only girl and it was prophesied that I would be left alone.

The feeling of newly smoothed blade comforted me. It was something I was accustomed to, something I grew with. I excitedly took off my dress, leaving me in corset and trousers. As I honed my skills in French court and with the King's approval, a set of clothes was placed in a small box in the armory for my use whenever I please.

It wasn't long in my training when Bash popped his head in, a knowing look in his eyes, "When I found your bedchambers empty, I knew I'd find you here."

I panted, stopping for him, "Want a sword?"

He grinned, the stress of appearing to be a royal deep within his face. I tossed him one of the swords and he caught it with such finesse that I admire in a man. Francis, with his uncanning gentleman manners has never been as great in sword fighting as Bash. Francis is not granted the freedom as Bash and he's always been green with jealousy because of it.

"My little brother is worried about you. He says you feel ill, yet you're as healthy as my horse!" Bash joked, attacking me from behind.

"Where are your manners, Sebastian? Were you not taught never to attack when your opponent isn't ready?"

He laughed, "No, those rules only apply to pretty princes who never has to yield a sword."

It was a cruel thing to say, knowing full well how that describes our dear friend. We dueled in silence, nothing but groaning and panting. It's the kind of silence I crave.

I've been working on my footwork; I am a petite girl with nothing but knowledge of my sword and agility to protect me. Every other opponent would have Bash's strength and fierceness.

The joyous laughter fell deaf in our ears as the clashing of the swords, the thrust of our fights inhibited our senses. It wasn't until I've had Bash kneeling in front of me with the blade of my sword threating to pierce his neck that we hear clapping and the King's booming praise, "Only the best for France!"

King Henry, the scots and Francis now occupied the sword room; I tried not to feel remorseful as Francis' eyes narrowed on my lie. Bash nodded at me, understanding what is happening and proceeded to trip me down.

The fight is back on; this was our silent plead for our audience to leave.

Seeing the Queen of Scots right beside Francis, enjoying the French court like she should, like she always would, encouraged this deep sense of anger and rebellion on me. All I wanted to do was clash on Bash's sword and release my anger with every blow, every hit and every clang.

It was the hardest I've ever fought and it was the hardest Bash had ever had to defend himself. The fight lasted for another half an hour, the royals have left and my muscles were sore. It took me utmost energy to reach my chambers. There is nothing more I want than a nice long and relaxing bath. But knowing full well that I've asked my ladies to take a break today to enjoy the festivities, I couldn't help but groan.

I cursed whoever built this palace, with its winding staircase. Must they put the ladies on the highest corridors? Is it not enough we must wear shoes with heels and hold ourselves upright at every moment of our waking lives? These feministic and simply complaining thoughts invaded my brain as I open the door to my bedchambers.

It isn't much – mostly decorated by the Queen, it's got all the necessities a proper lady must have. Do I use it all? Not at all.

All I really want is a comfortable bed to sleep in. But tonight, I've got that and a dauphin sitting comfortably on my bed, reading one of my books on the famous French traveller, Andre Thevet.

"You sparred well tonight." He commented, eyes focused on the book. I hear a hint of anger on his voice, but I decide to act normally.

I hanged my robe, shrugging, "Bash is a strong opponent."

He looked up from the book and noticed my tiredness. His face softened as he approached me. Helping me unbutton my dress down to my underdress, he said, "I've prepared a bath for you. I'll expect you before sun rise tomorrow."

He left swiftly, saying everything he's needed. I couldn't help but form a small smile at his kind gesture. I submerged myself in the bath and noticed a blooming flower with a side of French macaron.

Francis always knows.

**End note: Thank you again for reading. Please let me know how this is going! I'm pretty excited with this but I also haven't seen much Francis/OC stories here :( I'm going to try to incorporate at least one scene from the actual reign to most of my chapters! This one was Mary's royal greeting. I'm really good with constructive criticism, as I write to satisfy my wandering imagination and try to educate myself with creating and developing stories - so please don't bring your ship wars, it's rather immature (: **


	2. Chapter 2

My stomach felt queasy as the battalion near the French court. It had been a few months that I've been away from my family as I've volunteered to go secure our border down South.

"Lady Felicity, they must've received our good news!" One of the soldiers yelled in triumph.

The soldiers have been tired, giving all their might to protect our land. I couldn't help but smile at our victory as well. But all in all, my body is yearning for a bed and possibly a drink with my friends. I am glad that the court seems to be preparing a feast for the soldiers; the King must thank us properly of course. But I've never been one for parties, getting drunk, yes. But the mere politics of smiling to people I do not know seems completely boring to me.

We've entered the gates and received a loud welcome from the common folks. News of our triumph has flooded the gates and my heart swelled with pride. The crowd gathered, cheering, throwing gratitude and flowers. When horses seem to hinder us, we started walking on foot. It was a crazy, merry throng of people, hugs and kisses were free: this is the kind of court I like.

The King and the royal family stood on the podium close by and I see Francis jogged down to the ground. I couldn't help but do the same; it's been too long since I've seen him. I hugged him tightly, a smile on my face. My stomach rumbled uneasily, my eyes felt moist.

"Don't ever go away for so long!" He laughed, cupping my face.

"Couldn't handle Bash without me?" I joked, feeling comfort in the arms of my friend.

He shook his head and planted a kiss on my forehead, his grip on me so tight, "Never, darling."

The roar of the King's trumpet signaled us back to reality, the face of Queen Mary was in a tortured confusion. I suddenly felt the heavy armor I'm wearing and the soreness of my muscles.

"Thank you to all our soldiers who risked their lives to protect our land!" The King started which the crowd received with a heavy roar of clapping, "But most of all, to our dear Lady Felicity, a woman who's transcended gender differences, who's proven her utmost love for our France. Without your council and leadership, we wouldn't be here!"

I burrowed my face in Francis' shoulder; recognition is not something I feel comfortable about. Francis squeezed me tighter; his pride showing magnificently.

He took my hand and raised it in the air, yelling, "To Lady Felicity!"

Which the crowd mimicked, "Lady Felicity!"

I pleased the crowd by doing a small bow, kissing my fingertips and giving it back to them, I turned to the King and bowed, "I only ask one favor, King Henry."

"Anything you want, my dear."

I turned to the soldiers, happiness etched in their tired state, "Let's feed our soldiers the best food France can offer and give them the best night of their life!"

The crowd roared with laughter. Francis pulled my hand away from the madness with tough resistance. It was quite a while until we were back in the castle and I found myself being rammed on the wall with pressure.

"As Prince of France, you are to never, ever endanger yourself like that again." I couldn't tell if he was being serious or not.

I chuckled, "Then you must be joking, Dauphin, I am a highly ranked officer in your militia."

Francis started taking off my armor, his face dangerously close to mine, "Then you must resign!"

"And what must I do, conform to court? Become one of those ladies that do nothing but gossip or shop for their new corsets?" I asked bewildered. My heart's getting erratic, his closeness is starting to suffocate the air from my lungs.

We managed to get my armor off and I'm left with nothing but my thin clothes. Francis' stare grew deeper as he examined my bruises and cuts. He didn't hesitate to lift my top and saw a small gash. He kneeled down and touched the skin around it, emitting a gasp from my lips.

"I don't like sitting around waiting for news about your return, much like I hate seeing you hurt." He said with much emotion that pierced through me. Francis and I have been the best of friends since we were kids and we can't help but feel overprotective with each other, but the moment he looked up at me - those eyes started to scare me. It held such raw feelings, feelings that he shouldn't have.

I immediately pulled down my shirt to cover the gash, "I'm not invincible, Francis. You can't expect me not to get hurt in battle. You should be proud; when you're King, you'll have a highly experienced soldier."

He stood up, caging me back to the wall, and with all seriousness said, "You will not fight my battles, Felicity."

I pushed him away, offended by his words, "And what are you to do, fire me from my post? Decree a settled marriage between one of your foes for a peace agreement? After all, I am in the care of France, of your family!"

"Absolutely not!" Francis yelled angrily. Since I've been of age, he had always blocked any suitors I've had. In the beginning, it was something I was grateful for. I didn't want to wed any of the boys who've made themselves known. But as I entered adulthood, I've realized that the King must be waiting for the right time, a right country to settle me in with, "No other man will dare touch you."

That look in his eyes said it all. Everything, his plan, finally laid out in front of me without him having to word it all out. My chest is burning with pain and I simply couldn't help the tears flowing. Before I could even respond, the doors opened with Bash entering. Upon seeing us, with both our state – Francis, furious, while I…I don't even know what I must look to him.

"What is going on here?" He asked, studying both of us.

Francis, finally realizing what he's said, looked down. I answered, hurt laced on my voice, "Francis has finally revealed his feelings."

Bash looked dumbfounded, "Brother…"

Francis gazed up in a calm manner, "I am sorry for what I said. I now realize that was stupid of me. I'm the future King of France and love is irrelevant to people like me." He said those words with hurt in voice that my heart reached to him. He was right, as horribly as he was with his words towards me, his feelings truly shown.

He talked about _love_.

Does he love me?

He turned around and walked away slowly, unheeding towards Bash's calls. I succumbed down to the ground, finally letting the anguish tear me apart. This is one messed up world I live in.

Bash kneeled down and took me to an embrace, "He's always loved you, you know."

And those words hurt more.

"I can't…I can't…" I repeated over and over.

Bash grabbed me and settled me against the wall, wiping my face, "Come now, sister, you mustn't let anyone see you in distress. You've just won a battle."

"And lost Francis." I cried.

He hushed me, "Francis can never stay mad at you for long."

I shook my head. Bash didn't understand – he couldn't understand…the things I have to do to protect France, to protect Francis is far beyond anyone's mind. My mind was too heavy, my heart too broken. I pushed against Bash as he looks at me with worried eyes. I can hear the echo of his voice calling out my name as I walk aimlessly away.

There's only one place I know that can fix this.

I ran…I ran as if an enemy was to attack me from behind. The dungeon was too far from the entrance and I've passed numerous people that looked at me silly. I must look silly to them - tear-strained face, tomato cheeks and wild hair.

Simply put, I am unfit for the court.

"Nostradamus!" I yelled from across the hall, as he turned, I see the Queen Mary was speaking with him. She looked at me carefully, studying my pitiful state. I couldn't think to care about her right now. I've marched up and proclaimed, "Your Grace, I must speak with Nostradamus in private urgently. I apologize for the intrusion, but it cannot wait."

Queen Mary's eyes calculated me like a prey, her guard is up, I know it. She smiled graciously, "Anything for the protector of France."

I grabbed Nostradamus and dragged him to his own chamber. Releasing a heavy sigh, "I need more."

"No, you mustn't have anymore," He answered, "It's dangerous."

I turned to him, fire in my spirit, "I need more and I need it stronger! It's coming back…"

He studied me carefully, "Felicity, I told you it is not going to erase your feelings for Francis, it will merely lessen them. When you were younger, the feelings you had were just on the brink of developing - it was much easier to manage with the potion. But now, I'm afraid there's nothing you can drink or eat that will make them go away."

I looked at him, utterly scared. For years I've fancied Francis tremendously, but the potion he's given me was able to curb my feelings. I was to take it every time the sun rises on the seventeenth of the month. But, as I was away for battle, I haven't taken it.

"No, no-we had a plan, Nostradamus! You said it will work long after he's wed the Scottish Queen!"

He lowered his head, "I didn't anticipate the King would take a very long course of deciding when they should be married."

"Because Catherine is blocking it!" I yelled, "You must do something! You must tell the Queen that Francis and Mary should marry by day's end…or even week's end!"

Nostradamus looked at me worriedly, coming closer and inspecting my eyes and temperature, "Have you been feeling agitated lately?"

I slapped his hand away, "I was at war! What do you think!"

"Do you feel ill, Felicity?"

"Yes! Ill with these feelings for Francis I mustn't have!"

He shook his head, "We cannot control who we love, Felicity."

"Your potions can…please I need just a little bit more. I'll go to Paris, maybe. I'll leave for good and never return. Or I can marry Bash! I care for Bash! I will not disturb their union…please." I begged, settling on my knees for mercy.

Nostradamus shook his head, "I will make one more vial, but I'm afraid it won't do you much good. It won't last as long as I believe you've become immune to it. You must carry out whatever plan you have within a weeks worth or there's no hiding from your feelings."

I wiped my face from tears, joyous for a second chance, "I will!"

His face dimmed, "I hope you know what you're doing, Felicity. Poisons do not come without consequences. "

"Nostradamus, you've seen Francis dying young because he wed me. I will carry on whatever burden to save his life, even it means sacrificing my love."


	3. Chapter 3

I took a wary breath before I announced my presence to the guard guarding Queen Catherine's chamber. Asking an audience with the Queen for the sole purpose of leaving the court is more terrifying than heading to a battle with the English. I've replayed the advantages and disadvantages in my head and truthfully, Francis living to an old age sounds much better.

"Lady Felicity, your Majesty!" The guard roared, announcing my presence.

The Queen turned and smiled happily. Catherine loves me; I am treated very kindly and fortunately, away from the politics she plays with the King, "Felicity, darling, what is it?"

I sighed a heavy breath, "Your Majesty, you know of my love of France…"

She took my hands and led me to sit, "Your love of France is very well known in all of France. Your love of _Francis_, however…"

They do say, mother knows best. I pursed my lips, "Am I that obvious?"

She nodded her head, "Men are simply oblivious. However, there are whispers that Francis has proposed his love for you?"

Her eyes always pierce my soul, gathering the truth and washing away whatever lie I might have installed, "Not necessarily…he simply stated that there will be no man that can come near me."

She perked, "Ah, the age old jealousy. So, what can I do for you, my dear?"

Now or never, Fee, "The union between Scotland and France had been set in stone for more than a decade, Your Majesty. It seems you know of my feelings for Francis and as a woman, you must empathize with me. It bleeds my heart to be in court!"

"And what are you proposing?"

"Now that Francis has it in his head to claim me, we mustn't let it happen! Give me the resources to leave the court safely and I won't cause any problems whatsoever." I finalized, the determination and desperation interlaced with my voice.

Catherine's face turned stoned, her mind must be working so rapidly of calculating the risk. Catherine de Medici has more money than the King, himself; rumor has it that her wealth is what signified their union. So to have the Queen's approval would be to my very advantage.

She looked at me with fright in her eyes that surprised me truly. The Queen is a strong woman, willing to do whatever it take for her country. Her next words haunted my very soul, "My dear, you cannot leave, you mustn't try to leave. Heed my words with careful thought, Felicity. The King is very much intending for Mary to claim England and the English would fight tooth and nail to stop her. The union between Francis and Mary is an unfortunate thing, but the King would need you to lead the attack to England in due time."

_I'm imprisoned in the very house I felt free. _

"My Queen…" I started.

"This conversation never happened," She explained. "The King will clearly see your intent to leave the court as treason, especially since you will be crowned High Warrior in two days."

"High Warrior?" I asked dumbfounded.

High Warrior is a special title not given lightly. The last person entrusted with the title lived four decades ago. High Warrior is the supreme warrior of the land; with an even more powerful voice than the King in matters of war and lordship. It is the ultimate power a soldier can ever hope to have. The High Warrior can decide between a war between countries or peace between nations.

"You cannot leave."

When Nostradamus warned me that potions come with consequences, I did not heed his warnings. The need to protect Francis greatly outweighed my need to protect myself. Bash called it "hero complex," after all I physically, am a hero. I've watched many women succumb to greed and marry for a man's wealth - they wish day in and day out that their husbands would die so they would be free from misery. I never wanted that life for me. I wanted a life where I am able to direct my path, where I choose who to marry, where I choose when to bear daughters just as strong as me.

I wanted to so desperately the freedom to choose but it's only gotten me imprisoned.

I feel my body deteriorating sometimes, obeying Nostradamus' words and rendering my sense of touch. Yesterday I felt neither warmth nor coolness. It's quite unnerving, really. But today, I feel I'm losing my sight. As I lay here, in open grass with my touch back, I fear that my vision is dampening. I _know_ there are flowers lying with me, but I do not _see_ it.

"Lady Felicity." The voice of Queen Mary called.

Surely, I should get up and greet the Queen of Scots. Surely, I should curtsy or bow or show respect.

But surely the Queen would understand this was a personal time away from court.

I heard nothing after but shuffling and the next thing I know she's lying there next to me - the jewels in her hair are getting jumbled together as her fine clothes becoming distraught.

"I'm afraid I've given you a very cold welcome, Your Majesty." I whispered, my eyes closed to enable my other senses to do their job.

"You have and I do not blame you," Mary answered, "Please call me Mary. We aren't in the castle, let's be friends for the time being."

I opened my eyes to see her facing me, worry etched in her face. She's beautiful, the Queen Mary. Her beauty have been foretold by many of our messengers traveling back and forth from Scotland to France before.

I smiled, regretting all the uncustomary actions I've done in the past, "Alright then, _Mary._ What can I do for you?"

She gulped, "Francis." I chuckled. It seems my life will always revolve around Francis. "He is sick…sick with worry about you. Has anything happen in the war that you're keeping from us? I can help you, Felicity!"

"Mary, your dear Francis have always been protective of me. He thinks I do not eat, he believes I do not have enough nutrients in me. When we were kids, he wouldn't tell me that he and Bash were riding out because he thought I needed more sleep!" I laughed, "You need not worry about me too. In the next day he'll be worrying about something else completely."

"It isn't only him that's worrying. I am too - you might not realize, but I am very observant. You've been very fatigued lately."

I turned serious, "There are other wars I fight besides France's war. I have been…thinking about my future lately."

"You mean marriage? You'd like to wed?" Mary asked, sitting up in surprise, "But Francis…"

"Francis will marry you, Mary," I answered sternly. She flushed, unsure of what to say next. Doubt shines from her eyes and her soul looked like what I see everyday in the mirror, "Do you not want to?"

She seemed flustered, the thought that's been running through her mind finally out in the open by none other than a girl who seems to not like her, "I- I…"

I shook my head, this truly cannot be happening. What I've dearly prayed to God for countless of times is for Mary to be a good and loving wife to Francis! "Mary…"

She grabbed my hand fiercely, "You mustn't tell anyone! I order you…"

I took my hands away, "I will not tell anyone, not because you're ordering me to. I do not follow _your_ orders. But because you said you'd like to be friends."

She looked down and sighed, "I am sorry. I feel horrible; you and Francis love each other deeply and I'm coming in between and I don't even…"

She went back into lying down, "Francis is easy to love, you'll learn soon enough."

Mary and I stayed in this peaceful spot, quiet and finding solace at the fact that our hearts are torn. It was when the sun fell and the moon entered our sky that a servant had called both of us for supper. Mary, gracious as ever, offered her hand to help me up. Weirdly, this feels very comforting.

Francis greeted us inside the castle, looking curious as to having Mary and I together. The Queen smiled as we stopped in front of him, "Well, I must change before supper. I will see the both of you at the table."

The servant followed her as Francis and I both watched her leave. With uncertain eyes, Francis looked at me pleadingly, "Fee…"

The servants used to call it "dog eyes" when they refer to Francis' blue eyes. They said he's got those eyes that can turn a cold heart warm. Never worked for the King, but definitely triumphed over the Queen…and me. I've never seriously stayed mad at him for more than three days and this was no different. I sighed and simply hugged him, trying to eradicate the quarrel between us.

I felt him relax, finally, his shoulders slumped and he hugged me tighter. I _love_ Francis; I am _in love_ with Francis and this fact is something I can not run from. Whatever I will do about this and the prophecy that hung before us, I do not know. But I love Francis and I hate to see him pained, especially because of me.

"I've gotten to know the Queen Mary and let me tell you, she's got the most flawless skin I've ever seen!" I joked, interlacing my hand with his as we walk towards the hall.

Francis laughed, "Should I be worried that the two of you are starting to converse?"

"Maybe. Now you've got two annoying girls who will make your life very, very miserable, darling." I answered, my body feeling light suddenly.

Francis took hold of my hand and kissed it, "I will be very honored to have you annoy me."

I rested my head on his shoulders. Francis never fails to be a good company, but the bubbling in my stomach is starting to feel extremely uncomfortable. My vision is starting to go bleary and I fear I could not keep up appearances for the whole night. Francis felt my hesitation just before the door to the dining table was opened. But before he could say anything else, before he could even worry about me again, I've taken the step to open the door.

Inside, as per usual, lay the most delicious looking food with the Queen and King sitting at opposite table. Mary and her ladies were there as well, and so was Bash. Their attention turned towards us, entering and suddenly their eyes seemed to bore weight on my body more and more.

Time had gone slow, it feels. Do I look worrisome? I could see worry change the patrons' faces one by one. I turned to look at Francis, who's body felt incredibly far away from me, but as simple as turning my head felt too heavy. It wasn't long until my weight felt too heavy to carry that I fell, with one name on my lips, "Nostradamus."


	4. Chapter 4

"She is growing paler each day, what is wrong with her!" A soft, but angry voice roared from a distance.

I feel like two tons of bricks befell my body. It aches terribly and seemingly I feel cold. My eyes open to a dreary sight, everything was hazy and unclear. My mouth felt dry as I open my mouth to speak nothing.

It was quite an internal struggle, until a blurry form of Bash appeared before me. He cupped my face, with agonizing pain in his eyes, "She's awake, I think."

His announcement brought upon Nostradamus and Francis, whose voices I've heard arguing in the back of my head. I see them all with the same face as Bash.

"Felicity, how do you feel?" Francis rushed, pulling a blanket on my form. I tried to move to a sitting position but his hand brought me back easily, "You mustn't move. You're ill."

"Fran-francis…" I spoke softly, "I need- I need an audience with Nostradamus and Bash privately."

My comment struck him odd and surprising. His face contorted with confusion as he try to formulate what on earth I could possibly hide from him. He looked at Bash for clues but even Bash didn't know what to say. Dejectedly, he gritted his teeth, muttering, "Send a guard when _you're _ready to talk to me."

We all waited until he was out of the door before I breathed a sigh of relief and clutched Bash's hand for dear life, "What I must tell you need to stay between this room, Sebastian."

His eyes searched mine for clarity as his confusion with the situation took over, "I swear."

Looking at Nostradamus, "You know of Nostradamus' certain…abilities." I stated. I've known Nostradamus all my life and not once had he called it _gifts._ He tells me how it terrifies him, the things he sees.

"I've heard hearsays about it, yes." Bash responded.

"And you know of my love for Francis and my quest to protect him from all harm."

Bash chuckled, sitting on the bed I'm laid in, "There isn't a living person in this castle that does not know that."

I know I could very well trust Bash with anything, even my life. So my decision to tell him so late about my knowledge of the future was not because I lack trust, but merely because I lacked time. My stubbornness to ask for help had driven me to my almost death and I see that it is now time for reinforcements, "Nostradamus had seen a life I have with Francis in the future - a married life."

Bash took both my hands into his, "That is great news, Fee. Francis will be a ruler someday but that does not mean he cannot follow his heart. I'm sure there will be a better agreement between Scotland and France. You need not worry so much."

My face was stoic; I've heard all these thoughts before. I used to think that way, looking at the mirror and telling myself the same things Bash is uttering to make myself feel better. But time had gotten me cold to the thought, I must get used to having who I love so close yet so difficult to achieve, "It will be a married life devoted with caring for a sick Francis as he slowly but painfully die at a very young age."

Bash was taken a back, an extreme surprise to the bastard that loves his brother deeply. He looked at Nostradamus and received a nod, claiming my words to be true. Bash shook his head, looking between me and nothing, "It can't be."

"It will be. For a while, Nostradamus had given me a potion that would keep my feelings at bay. Francis relies on my action; if I give him hope, he jumps for it. But if I treat him like a brother, he knows how to stay in his place."

"A potion? Fee, feelings cannot be dictated by science!" Bash uttered. "This potion…is it causing you ill?"

Nostradamus answered, "Yes. It curbs the feelings but it must replenish some other way. She's been losing some of her senses day to day as she persistently takes it. I've made her a stronger one and I presume is the reason why she has lost her energy."

"Why have you been allowing this to happen!" Bash roared, standing up against Nostradamus.

I pulled his hand, "It was my choice. I've been cornering Nostradamus to help me. It isn't his fault."

"And you haven't told Francis this?"

I shook my head, "He doesn't believe in this. He will fight his fate."

"And what are we to do? Marry him to Mary?" He yelled, angrily pacing.

I narrowed his eyes at him, of all people who I thought would understand, Bash is making it difficult, "With or without Nostradamus' vision, he would've been married to Mary regardless. Have you forgotten the agreement between Scotland and France?"

I gave my all to be able to stand up and face Bash. He's acting a bit weird, angry and all the time pacing. He growled, "Things _can_ change, Felicity!"

I gasped, "You fancy her, you fancy Mary."

Nostradamus timidly mumbled, "I'll give you two some privacy."

"Lady Felicity! Lady Felicity!" the living, breathing, embodiment of my annoyance called. Queen Mary dismissed her ladies as she howled towards me with a smile of kindness. "I'm so glad you're doing better. Did Nostradamus say what it was about?"

"Fatigue." I gritted my teeth.

"Oh," Mary answered, "It must be from the battle. You had the whole castle worried! If not for Catherine's persistence, the King would've sent numerous physicians to treat you."

I sighed, "May I be bold, Your Majesty?"

Her shoulders squared and she looks more like a queen, "Of course."

I took another step closer to her, a whisper I've never thought would ever come out from my lips, "You are betrothed to the Dauphin; respect your treaties or Bash might end up paying the price," Mary's face looked stunned, her eyes calculating how much I know as her lips quiver in fear, "I love Francis and I love France, but Bash is my brother, too. I will die for my brothers."

I turned to leave a stunned Queen. I know naught to keep Bash from doing something, but Mary, however, is different. A call hindered me from leaving, "We have a plan."

It was a foolish call. A woman's mind tucked under the layer of love and comfort of the heart - Mary, a young, naïve, heart driven queen. Her love for Sebastian might be pure and true, but her love for her country should've amounted to something more - that is what rulers are supposed to do. Even Francis, who's always trying to separate the crown from his life, knew that this is the way a royal must live. I turned to Mary and saw a desperate girl, a girl filled with love and heartache both at once. She is the kind of girl I should be and I'm one she should be. I was raised to conceal, while she to give. Her eyes bore tears, tears that spoke of her love for Bash.

I grabbed the Queen and dragged her to my chambers. Among the flight of stairs, my mind raced with worry.

A plan?

"Of all people you could love…" I slammed my chamber door, dismissing the guards that could easily overhear, "You do not get to choose who to love, Mary, Queen of Scots. You were betrothed and must honor it!"

"Don't you think I know that?" She cried, "Night and Day I pray to God to give me a different fate: one where I can serve my country and my heart!"

I slammed my hands on my desk, anger seeping through my veins, "Your love for Bash will kill him! It won't just be a matter of adultery; nobles will say he's seizing the crown. They will call him usurper!"

Mary shook her head, "No, no…he doesn't want anything to do with the crown."

"I know that!" I yelled, "But anyone who tries a hand at you is trying for the crown. You are engaged to a dauphin, not to a servant. You-you do not get to choose who to love, who to be with. You _will_ marry Francis, you _will _be a good wife and you _will_ be loyal!"

"You do not get to raise your voice to me! I am the Queen of Scotland!"

"And in this country, in this court, I am above you, Your Majesty." I answered, bowing to her and leaving my chambers in haste. Mary is similarly like Bash – both stubborn, both fearless. I worry for the fate of my brother. How far we've come and how slowly we seem to burn.

As French court goes, whispers of my illness purged across and had some whispering pregnancy as the culprit. I, a virgin, nonetheless must be some sort of miraculous woman to conceive a child! I despise these gossiping women.

_"You think it's from Francis?" _

_"Well if you see the way Bash lingers at her…" _

_"Has she been with both of them?" _

My mouth turns upward at their stupidity. However, my short mood of happiness churned when none other than Francis was standing at the entrance of the hall talking to one of the soldiers. His eyes turned to mine and a gasp of breath emerged from his lips. I see him dismiss the soldier as he waits for my presence.

"Have you heard the latest, my dear?" I asked, trying my best not to sound so frail with guilt.

He shook his head, "Apparently you're with child. Is that true?" For a mild second I thought he was serious, until a burst of laughter came. We both chuckled with his hand leading me inside the hall. Preparations of another party were booming, "We have a guest arriving."

I groaned, "That must mean I have to put on heavy jewels again?"

He smiled at my rapport, "I'm afraid so. It seems the Prince of Portugal is visiting. Mother requires we are all in our best behavior."

I twiddled my thumbs, a habit I've picked up since I was a child, mischievousness dripping through my voice, "Our best behavior, eh?"

"Oh god helps us all!" Francis laughed.

We sampled some of the pastries lying on the table and picked up a couple of wine here and there. It was a comfortable feeling, being with him. I thought he'd take it to heart what happened earlier today, but it seems Francis had been forgiving. I see some reservations in his eyes, but a joyous feel overcomes.

This is the kind of Dauphin I'd like to see. A happy, living one.

"Felicity, are you all right?" His tone concerned. I blinked my eyes, coming back from the reality and suddenly Francis pulls me to a wall, away from prying ears. "Felicity…"

I touched his chest, "Francis, please do not ask me that. I am okay, I am happy. You are happy."

He cupped my face, checking for temperature, "You worry me too much."

"You need not worry about me. I can withstand battles; this is not but a small fever. I will be back to normal in due time."

"And your conversation with Bash?"

I bit my lip, "Francis…there are things I confide in Bash that I simply…"

"Could not with me?" His eyes bore hurt, "Do you…do you fancy Bash?"

I shook my head vigorously, "No, that's not it…it's just…"

"Felicity…"

I threw myself to him, hugging him dearly, "Please, if you value our friendship, you must leave it alone."

He cupped my face, "Do not ask me to do that because anything that threatens you, threatens me. Trust me, Felicity. I beg of you."


End file.
